


Going Through Hell

by OnyxSardonyx



Series: Keep Going [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Nonsupernatural AU, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSardonyx/pseuds/OnyxSardonyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you're going through Hell, keep going." - Winston Churchill</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In the months and years to come, Sam will think back to this moment a lot. It will come to him in his dreams and his nightmares, and he will be shaken awake and think back and over-analyse and get lost in a maze of _What if_ 's and _Maybe_ 's.

But this is now, and now Sam barely realises what's happening before it's over.

The other car is barely visible; it's pitch black, and whatever idiot is driving the car didn't have the sense to switch on the headlights. He is also driving right in the middle of the street; Dean barely has time to react before they crash into the other car at nearly 50 mph.

Sam only registers loud noises, jolting, pain, and darkness.

 

 

He comes to, God knows how much later, but he notices it's still dark. He also notices a sharp pain in his chest and numbness in his right leg; he tries not to move too much and resists the urge to look.

“Dean?”

No answer.

_Fuck_ , he thinks. He realises he's in shock, he can't even panic. The urge to look at his leg gets too strong, and he nearly passes out again at the sight.

It's probably good that his leg is numb. His knee looks pretty much shattered; blood is oozing slowly through his torn jeans and he tries very, very hard not to notice the fragments of bone sticking out.

Instead, he looks at his brother, and what he sees isn't very encouraging either; the only thing Sam can see for sure is that Dean is bleeding heavily from a wound on his forehead.

_Cellphone_ , he thinks. He finds it in his pocket; by some kind of miracle, it's not broken.

Dialling 911 is a huge effort and he barely manages to give them their location. He doesn't know how badly Dean is injured. He doesn't know anything about the other car. He just has to sit back and wait until the ambulance gets here.

 

 

He must have blacked out again because when he comes to the second time, he's on a stretcher and being wheeled into the back of the ambulance. He tries to sit up, see what happened to Dean, but hands push him back down. He tries to say something but his tongue doesn't obey.

He's tired, so tired, but he needs to know about Dean.

He turns his head, tries to see, and there's his brother on a stretcher beside him, still out. He's too pale, he doesn't look much like Dean at all, and a sharp, nagging anxiety makes its way towards Sam's heart.

He finally regains the ability to speak.

“Is he -?”

One of the paramedics throws him a calculating look. She comes over to Sam's stretcher and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“What's your name?”

“Sa...” He falters, tries again. “Samishesser.”

The paramedic smiles at him patiently.

“Sam Winchester.”

He gestures vaguely to the stretcher next to him.

“Dean. My - brother. Is he -?”

“He's alive”, she says gently. Sam relaxes a bit. When the paramedic doesn't offer any details, he decided he'd rather not know at the moment and sinks back. He's so tired.

 

 

When Sam wakes up, he doesn't know what happened for a second.

He's warm and comfortable and sleepy. From what he can see, he's in a hospital bed and he is alone. His torso is bandaged, his leg is in a cast, and he has an IV drip dangling from his arm.

He makes a move to sit up and feels momentarily dizzy. The events of last night come back to him in a flash, and with them, Sam starts worrying exponentially about his brother. He can't see Dean, the room is empty except for him, but he's pretty sure that “I'm worried about my brother” isn't a valid reason to call the nurse. He's also pretty sure that he can't walk and find out for himself.

He doesn't have to wait for long; a nurse comes bustling in and looks happy to find him awake. Before Sam can even ask a single question she has informed him of his own condition (broken leg, a few broken ribs, some minor internal bleeding) and tells him it's expected he will make a full recovery.

“We're going to keep you here for a few days for observation, but you'll be home by the end of the week.”

She takes a breath for the first time since she started talking and Sam jumps at the chance. “What about Dean, what about my brother?”

A look crosses her face that is definitely _not good news_.

“Dean suffered severe head trauma and injuries to his spinal chord”, she says. She looks cautious. “He's in a coma. If he wakes up -” Sam notices the use of the word _if_ \- “it's likely he'll never be able to walk again.”

_Shit_ , Sam thinks. He puts on a brave face. “He'll pull through. He'll be fine. He's been through worse.” He doesn't quite manage to hide the desperation in his voice, because to be fair, he can't quite remember anything that Dean's been through that was worse.

But Dean can't die. _Mustn't_ die. Dean can't just lie in a coma for the rest of his life either. And if he wakes up and finds that he won't ever walk again then that's not much better. Sam just has to hold on to the hope that something will happen and Dean will be all right. Because Dean's always all right, Dean never lets himself get down.

The nurse just gives him a sympathetic look that Sam really, _really_ wants to wipe off her face.

“Can I see him?”

“Not at the moment. You're still too weak to walk and he's in intensive care. Do you have any family or spouses we should call?”

Sam closes his eyes for a moment. He tries very hard not to think about Jessica.

“No”, he simply says.

After Dad died and Jessica left him, Dean's the only one he's got.

And he can't, he _can't_ lose him.

 

 

He's interrogated thoroughly by the nurses - not just date of birth and medical history (for both him and Dean), but also the circumstances of the accident and their family situation and his relationship with Dean. He doesn't see how it's relevant and kind of suspects that they're making small talk, but he's too tired to argue, so he humours them. He tells them the short version of how Jess and he broke up (minus the cheating and the lies and the pain) and how he needed some time out. About their dad, who died only a few months before this happened. How he rang Dean and explained and Dean, who was also a bit adrift at the time, suggested a road trip.

That was nearly eight months ago.

After the nurses are finished, the police come in. They want to know everything there is to know about their accident. How it happened, what he remembered. Everything. It's difficult enough to concentrate as it is, but Sam doesn't think he'll last long with the image of Dean etched in his mind, bleeding heavily, unconscious, and he fidgets so much that at last, the police officers leave him alone.

There isn't much to tell, anyway.

 

 

He's so tired when he's finally left alone that he just wants to lie back and sleep. He tries, he feels a burning ache in his leg and a dull pressure on his ribs, he closes his eyes and sees Dean's face, a memory from a few months ago, laughing freely for the first time since Dad died, smiling at Sam with so much genuine warmth -

He opens his eyes again and feels sick with worry.

Sleep doesn't come easily.

And just as Sam is about to drift off, the door to the room he's been occupying by himself previously opens and another patient is wheeled in.

Sam isn't too interested in him, he's just slightly annoyed that he was disturbed. He sits up and manages to ask the nurse for something against the pain in his leg. The man in the other bed is asleep; Sam can't make out more than a bit of untidy dark blonde hair. He wonders, briefly, what his story is, before taking his painkillers and trying, once again, to go back to sleep.

 

 

Breakfast is served early in the morning and once again Sam implores the nurse to let him go see Dean; once again, the nurse denies. Sam scowls and only barely keeps himself from hurling insults at her; it's not her fault, she's only doing her job, but it's frustrating.

Instead, he silently eats his breakfast when she leaves and tries to ignore the stinging pain in his chest.

The guy in the other bed is awake as well. He doesn't look happy about anything at all, his expression grim and closed off. He looks like he could be handsome if he wore a smile; Sam estimates him to be in his twenties. He radiates a cool, stale air of wanting to be left alone.

But Sam is bored and lonely and frustrated about not being allowed to see Dean, so about two hours after breakfast, he finally breaks the silence.

“I'm Sam”, he says. The other guy has mostly been staring into space; like Sam earlier, he seemed to have difficulties getting to sleep.

He takes so long to react that Sam is just about ready to give up again.

“Luce”, he eventually says coolly.

“Oh. Er. Nice... to meet you. Luce.” He wonders vaguely why this guy is so distracted and why he doesn't want to talk. “Is that short for anything?”

Luce looks him in the eye for the first time and looks a tiny bit amused for a second.

“You really don't want to know”, he tells Sam.

The moment is gone and Luce goes back to looking absolutely miserable.

And Sam silently vows to make this guy smile, whatever the cost, because nobody deserves to look this unhappy - for whatever reason.

“Okay”, he says. “So - what are you in for?” He gestures loosely to their surroundings.

Luce looks at him blankly for a second before seeming to catch on. “Oh. This.” He frowns, which makes his face look even darker. “Accident.”

Sam mirrors his frown. “Really? What happened?”

Luce seems reluctant to elaborate. “Car crash. Last night.”

_No..._ Sam squints. _No_ , he thinks again, _it's impossible_. It takes him a few moments to register that Luce has asked him a question.

“You?”

Sam takes a deep breath and fights off the nausea.

“Last night? What happened? Did you - did you crash into another car?”

Luce eyes him suspiciously.

“Yeah”, he volunteers after a moment of hesitation. “How did -”

“I was in the other car.”

Luce stares at him, dumbfounded.

“Oh”, he manages.

“Unless there were two car crashes like that in the area. Which I doubt.”

Sam isn't quite sure how to feel towards Luce now. After all, it's his fault that Sam's leg is broken and his brother is in a coma. And he still doesn't see why Luce would drive in the middle of the road, at night, with no lights on.

_Probably drunk_ , he thinks. He feels slightly disgusted.

Luce doesn't answer him, and Sam is perfectly fine with that; he simply lies back, wonders what's for lunch and if he can ask the nurses for a book or something.

 

 

A nurse comes in just after lunch.

“You can see your brother now”, he tells Sam and Sam almost forgets that his leg is broken in his eagerness to get up.

He almost falls and the nurse takes his shoulders and steadies him before handing him a pair of crutches. “If you'll follow me.”

They make their way to Intensive Care slowly. Sam tries to get as much information as he can out of the nurse, but the only thing he tells him is that Dean suffered severe injuries and is in a coma. They've almost reached Intensive Care when the nurse admits what Sam has been dreading from the very start: They aren't sure if Dean will pull through.

Sam falls silent after that and just hopes, wishes, prays that Dean will be fine.

He barely looks like his brother anymore; his head is wrapped in a thick bandage and his back is stabilised by what looks like a complicated corset. There seem to be an awful lot of cables coming off him; a monitor next to his bed is measuring his heart beat, his blood pressure and some other things Sam doesn't recognise.

“Dean?” He's shocked by how small his own voice sounds. He leans his crutches against the wall and sits down carefully on the chair next to Dean's bed. “Oh God, Dean.”

“He can't hear you”, the nurse says softly, gently.

Sam doesn't want to listen.

He looks up, watches Dean's steady heartbeat for a minute. Watches Dean's face, his closed eyes, his slightly open mouth.

His eyes trail down to the strange corset and he doesn't dare to ask what purpose it has.

He feels weak; tears are forming in his eyes against his will. He fights them as long as he can.

“Dean, please stay with me”, he begs quietly as the first of his tears fall on his brother's bedsheets.

 

 

He stays with Dean until the nurse tells him he has to go.

By the time Sam is back in his room, he's almost got himself back under control; back by Dean's bedside he had been crying like a baby. He'd been embarrassed by himself. He was acting like a twelve year old girl.

But it didn't matter as much because it was Dean, it was his brother who was dying in that bed and there was absolutely nothing Sam could do.

He simply throws his crutches away and buries himself in his bedsheets. He doesn't want to talk to the nurse, or to Luce, or in fact anyone. He just wants to be left alone.

He prays, silently, because if there is a God then now would be the best time for that God to make himself known; Sam prays and prays, he begs silently for a miracle, for something, he begs for Dean to live, he wishes time could be turned back, he wishes this accident never happened...

He very nearly curses Luce to Hell and wishes things were that simple.

 

 

He's surprised when, for the first time, Luce starts a conversation, just after they are served their dinner.

“So how's your brother?”, he asks quietly. “I guess - he was in the car with you?”

Sam nods, chews his food and tries to stay calm. He's surprised at Luce's boldness - asking him about Dean, asking about the one person in Sam's life who matters most - and a fair bit annoyed too.

He swallows and looks at his wardmate.

“He's going to die, Luce”, he says coldly and with more force than he intended. At the same time, the truth hits him, crystal clear and more painful than anything he's ever experienced: _Dean is going to die._ It's more than likely and there is absolutely nothing Sam can do to stop it.

And he has absolutely no idea what he will do without Dean.

Luce mutters something under his breath.

“What?”, Sam demands.

“I said I'm sorry”, Luce says after a short moment of hesitation.

Sam frowns at him.

“Well, if he does die, then 'sorry' isn't going to cut it”, he snaps at Luce.

Luce sighs and falls silent for a while. Sam tries to have some more of his food but he finds he's completely lost his appetite.

A few minutes pass before Luce speaks again, so quiet that Sam has to strain to hear him.

“Everybody dies, Sam, you might as well accept it.”

Sam's fingers clench into fists and he has to resist the urge to jump out of bed and punch Luce.

“Asshole”, he hisses instead, wholeheartedly, and if Luce hears him, then so much the better.

 

 

Luce doesn't try to talk to him at all over the next two days. Apparently, his injuries are mild comparing to what Sam and Dean got; Sam overhears a nurse mentioning a broken finger and a concussion.

Sam resents Luce even more after that. He was the one who caused the accident and he got away with the least severe injuries out of the three of them. It's not fair.

But at least it means that Luce won't be staying in the hospital for more than a few days, so Sam won't have to put up with him for much longer.

He spends as much time as he can with Dean, hoping and praying every day that his brother will wake up and get better. But nothing happens. His brother is simply lying in his bed, not reacting at all to Sam, whether Sam is telling him stories, begging him to wake up, or holding and squeezing his hand in hope of getting a response.

It's really early on the third day when a nurse comes into the room; Sam is still asleep when she shakes him.

“He's awake”, she tells him in a hushed voice.

It takes a few seconds for this information to be processed; then Sam sits up so quickly that his torso aches in protest.

“Take me to him, now”, he urges.

It would take too long to walk there in his crutches; the nurse has anticipated this and has a wheelchair ready. Under any other circumstances, Sam would hate being pushed around in a wheelchair, but he has a hard time thinking about anything other than Dean.

It still takes painfully long to get to Intensive Care and Sam all but throws himself at Dean, momentarily forgetting his broken leg because _Dean is awake_ , he's looking at Sam with a smile in his eyes and Sam feels hope rise in his chest. With the hope comes warmth and the first genuine smile since the accident and Sam takes his usual seat next to Dean's bed and curls his fingers around Dean's hand.

“Dean”, he says. He wants to hug his brother who seems to have escaped certain death - but he doesn't dare; Dean's still wearing the corset-like apparatus and Sam doesn't want to do any damage.

“Hey, Sammy”, Dean whispers. His voice sounds feeble and broken, but it's the most beautiful sound Sam has ever heard.

He smiles down at his big brother. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell”, Dean mumbles and Sam squeezes his hand.

“You'll get better, Dean. I know you will. Now that you're out of the coma -”

“They haven't told you”, Dean says, his voice almost failing.

“Told me _what_?”

In an instant, Sam is panicking again. He turns to the nurse, who wears the same sympathetic expression as she had the first day (he's pretty sure it's even the same nurse, though he doesn't bother to remember any of their names).

“What? What is it?”

“Sammy”, Dean croaks before the nurse can speak. “I'm gonna die, Sammy.”

“No”, Sam says, shaking his head frantically, “No, that's not right, you can't - I won't let you. Dean -”

“I'm sorry”, the nurse interrupts softly. “Your brother is suffering from an intracranial hemorrage - which basically means that blood vessels inside his brain ruptured. The brain damage is too extensive, there's nothing we can do.”

“No”, Sam repeats, stupidly, as if saying it will change anything. “No, there has to be something -”

“Sammy”, Dean says softly.

Sam shuts up, holds his brother's hand and tries not to cry hysterically because he's sure he'd have a full-blown mental breakdown; but he has to stay strong, for Dean, he doesn't want his brother to see him tear up in his very last moments.

He has to convince Dean that he's going to be all right - even though he knows very well that he's not.

“Sammy, it's all right”, Dean says, apparently guessing Sam's thoughts. “It'll be fine.”

Sam gives up his efforts not to cry. He bites his lower lip and locks eyes with his brother. On the edge of his mind, he registers the ECG machine beeping a little slower than it was before.

He takes a deep breath.

“It'll be fine”, he confirms, choking down a sob.

Dean smiles painfully and squeezes Sam's hand.

“I know it will.”

They sit silently for a moment. Sam is crying freely, but silently; he has to be strong for his brother and that's not possible if he's a sobbing wreck. He holds on to Dean's hand, afraid that if he lets go, Dean will slip away faster; even now, Dean's eyes go unfocused and slowly close.

_No_ , Sam thinks, he's not ready yet, it's too soon, he still has so much to tell him -

“Dean”, he whispers, tugging at his hand.

Dean opens his eyes again, looks at Sam. His smile is gone.

“I'm scared, Sammy”, he mumbles.

It's not like Dean to admit something like that and it frightens the hell out of Sam.

“It's okay, Dean. It's okay, you're going to be fine”, he says desperately. “Remember when we watched The Lord of the Rings the other week? Remember what Gandalf said. Death is just another path. You're going to be fine.”

Dean smiles, but it's a weak smile, a sad smile, and Sam knows it's not going to be long now.

“Remember what he said, Dean, can you see it - the green country and the sunrise and the silver glass...”

“I can't believe you actually memorised that”, Dean says, quietly mocking. Sam smiles underneath his tears. “You're such a geek.”

“But if it helps”, Sam says helplessly.

“It does, Sammy.” Dean closes his eyes again and the pressure on Sam's hand lessens; he's scared, he's utterly scared and he doesn't know what to do except hold on to his brother's hand for dear life and hope that it's not over yet.

“Sammy.”

Dean's voice sounds like a shadow, like an echo.

“I'm here, Dean.”

“You have a good life, you hear me? Promise me that, Sammy.”

Emotions are welling up, threatening to choke him.

“I promise”, he whispers.

Dean smiles, his eyes still closed, and not even the shrill, flat drone of the ECG can drown the silence that is filled with all the words that Sam will never get the chance to say.


	2. Chapter 2

The world is grey and muted and dull as the nurse wheels him back to his room.

She offers to help him into his bed. He simply shakes his head.

He just wants to be alone.

He doesn't remember how long he sat by Dean's side after his brother's heart gave out. He doesn't want to remember.

He stopped crying a while ago but the tears on his face are not quite dried yet.

“Sam?”

Luce shows concern on his face, even pity, but pity is the last thing Sam needs - least of all from Luce.

“He's dead”, he snarls. Luce looks like he's about to say something, but Sam cuts him off before he can utter a word.

“If you're going to say you're sorry you can shove it up your ass. This is your fault. No one else's.” Before he knows what he's doing, he's wheeled himself over to Luce's bed, shaking with rage and grief and helplessness; and it's only him and Luce, who he didn't even know a few days ago, Luce, whose fault it is that he doesn't have a brother anymore -

“You killed him”, he hisses, tears rising again. Blinded by his sorrow he gets up from his wheelchair; he doesn't know what he's doing until his fist connects with Luce's jaw and even then he doesn't stop because it feels far too good to just let go...

He hits him, white-hot fury colouring his mind, and he barely registers that Luce doesn't fight back, just takes it, takes every punch Sam throws until the nurses come in and grab him and force him back to his bed and his leg hurts but he can't feel it -

The rage dissolves as suddenly as it came and Sam misses it fiercely the moment it's gone, because it only leaves behind a cluttering mess of broken shards and he thinks the pain of losing his brother will stay with him forever.

He breaks down again, doesn't care that Luce is there and that the nurses are talking to him, he just buries his face in his pillows and sobs uncontrollably, swatting away hands that want to touch him, because nobody will ever understand and nobody will ever be able to comfort him - they don't understand what Dean meant to him and _nothing is ever going to be all right again_ -

 

 

He doesn't talk.

A man comes to him and asks him about his feelings, asks him about his brother's death and why he hit Luce.

Sam persistently keeps his silence, because none of this is something he wants to share with anyone.

He doesn't talk to the nurses, who have become quiet and pitying around him. Sam wishes they would just _stop_.

He doesn't talk to Luce, though there are clear bruises forming on his cheek and his eye.

Luce is the only one who doesn't try to talk to him, and in a way, Sam is grateful.

He's just... lying. He doesn't want to do anything else ever again. He wanders off in his mind, strolls down memory lane, only to be confronted with happy childhood memories - playing in the tree house they made from old wood, setting off fireworks on Independence Day, cuddling with Dad and Dean on the sofa while watching a horror movie. Sam was terrified but couldn't look away no matter how many times Dean tried to pull him away and hide his face in his shoulder.

It hurts him so much that he has to pull himself out of it. The image of Dean, lying on that hospital bed, his eyes fluttering shut as the monitor shows his heart failing, will forever be etched in Sam's mind, and he's torturing himself, wondering, turning words around in his head, asking of himself if he could have done anything to make this easier.

The objective answer is probably no, but Sam doesn't want to be objective.

Sam is still angry.

Angry at Luce. Angry at the nurses. Angry at the world, angry at God, whom he prayed to and who didn't listen. Angry at Dean for abandoning him (though he has a hard time admitting that to himself; he doesn't _want_ to be angry with Dean). Angry at himself, for not handling this like a grown-up man should.

Angry at Luce, again.

He turns to his side and though the urge to hurt Luce - to make him pay for that he did - is gone, the deep, cold fury remains.

Until he notices something strange.

He watches Luce - the other man is sitting on his bed, swallowing his pills.

The thing that's wrong with this is that Sam has never seen Luce take his pills.

The thing that's wrong with this is that he doesn't just take one, or two. He keeps producing more from somewhere, swallows them, takes a sip of water, swallows the next.

Sam doesn't know how long he's been doing that before Sam noticed him, but when Luce takes a pill for the tenth time after Sam starts counting, he sits up.

“What are you doing?”, he asks hoarsely.

Luce ignores him completely.

Another pill, another sip of water.

_Everybody dies, Sam, you might as well accept it._

“Luce”, he says, louder this time. “Luce. Stop.”

Luce doesn't even spare him a glance. Another pill, another sip of water.

How many of these pills does he have? Where do they keep coming from?

_You might as well accept it._

That's what Luce had said. Then, it had been about Dean.

Now, Sam isn't so sure.

He doesn't even think before he reaches out to the big red button next to his bed. It sounds the alarm for the nurses silently, and less than a minute passes before three of them burst into the room.

From their faces, he can see that they expect there's something wrong with him. Of course Sam isn't okay, not at all, but it's not him who has the emergency.

“It's him”, he says to the nurse closest to him, gesturing to Luce. “He - he started taking a shitload of pills -”

The nurse seems to understand immediately; she graces Sam with a nod and turns to Luce, who has stopped taking the pills and looks at Sam with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

“What did you take?”, the nurse asks Luce, gently.

“Dunno”, he grunts. “Whatever you guys keep giving me whenever I ask for something. For the pain.” A pained grin crosses his face. “You just kept giving stuff to me and I never took it. Just saved 'em up.”

One of the nurses checks the little chart next to Luce's bed.

“Ibuprofen, 400mg”, she says. “How many did you take?”

“Like fifteen.”

“Okay”, she says and starts talking to the other nurses, fast, using a lot of words Sam doesn't understand. But none of them seem completely off their heads, which probably means Luce isn't going to die. So he lies back and closes his eyes and tries to shut out whatever's going on around him. He's bitter and grieving and angry, but he's not going to let Luce die.

Part of him wonders, again, what compelled Luce to take those pills, why someone like Luce wants to die.

He finds that it's easier to wonder about Luce than think about Dean, so he focuses on that. He realises that he might just have saved a life. Not the life he wanted to save; not the life he would have saved if he'd had a choice, but still.

He's not going to let anyone else die.

With this in mind, along with the half forgotten but rediscovered objective to make Luce smile, Sam finally manages to fall asleep.

 

 

When he wakes up, it's dark and he's in terrible pain from his leg. He switches on his small headlight and realises he doesn't have any painkillers. After what Luce did earlier, he doesn't really want to take any, but his leg is in agony; he thinks he must have irritated it when he was beating Luce - blinded by his rage and pain he probably wouldn't have noticed it if a fire started right there.

Except now his leg feels on fire and Sam thinks it might be infected underneath the cast - which is probably not good news.

He considers calling the nurses. Except he doesn't want to - it's the middle of the night and he can just make out Luce's shape on the other bed, fast asleep. Sam doesn't know what they did to him, and he certainly doesn't want to wake him.

But the pain in his leg eventually gets unbearable, so he just decides that it's more important and presses the little red button.

A nurse rushes in only a minute later. This time, he glances at Lucifer first, before he notices that Sam is the one who is sitting up, face contorted in pain.

“What's wrong?”, he asks Sam.

“My leg”, Sam says through gritted teeth. “It's - I don't know, could it be infected or something?”

The nurse comes towards him and looks down on his leg with a troubled look on his face.

“Can you show me where?”

Sam tries to concentrate, tries to locate the pain. It doesn't seem possible. “It's just sort of... everywhere”, he says lamely.

“Okay”, the nurse says. “Anything else you feel? Does the skin feel sort of numb, or maybe like pins and needles?”

Sam doesn't really feel anything beyond the pain, but he remembers feeling that pins and needles sensation earlier. “Yeah, that”, he says.

“Okay. We'll have to take off the cast, see what's going on, and if what I'm thinking is true we may have to perform some emergency surgery. I think what might have happened is that your tissues are swelling underneath the cast, so the blood supply to the rest of your leg is cut off, which is causing the pain and the pins and needles sensation. It's a relatively easy and risk-free surgery. We'll have to diagnose it properly first, though, and then your surgeon will fill you in on the details.”

Sam sinks back as more nurses come and wheel him into a different room, where his cast is taken off. They move his leg around which causes even more pain which apparently confirms his nurse's diagnosis. He feels utterly relieved when he's finally given anaesthesia for the surgery and passes out relishing the painlessness from his leg.

 

 

He wakes up back in his room with a new cast around his leg; he’s still in pain, but nowhere near as much as he was before.

The sun is up; it’s probably around midday. He groans softly because the only thing he clearly remembers from what the doctor told him before the surgery is that he will have to stay in hospital at least another week longer.

Luce is awake now, too. He’s watching Sam with a quiet intent that is subtly unnerving.

Sam stares back until he gets the feeling he’s participating in a staring contest. He doesn’t break eye contact though. And he doesn’t say a word.

Finally, Luce breaks the silence.

“Why did you do it?”, he asks, quietly.

“Do what?”

“Save me.” His voice is soft with only the tiniest hint of confusion. “I killed your brother. Why didn’t you just let me die? You know I deserve it.”

“You don’t”, Sam says at once. “He was my brother and of course I was angry. I still am. Doesn’t mean I’ll let you die a slow, painful, pitiful death. I’m not gonna let you kill yourself, Luce.”

Luce looks down, breaking the intense eye contact, and Sam immediately feels like something’s gone missing from him. He pushes the feeling aside.

“Why d’you want to die, anyway?”, he asks, not caring very much if he is rude.

Luce looks up again, looks at him for a while. He seems thoughtful.

“You know, there’s been therapists in and out of here all day”, he says eventually. “They all ask that question. But they phrase it differently. They ask me why I wanted to kill myself, why I tried to take my own life, why I attempted suicide.”

He pauses, and Sam dares not interrupt.

“You just ask why I want to die. It sounds like the same question. It’s not.”

He turns away from Sam and curls up on his bed, and Sam is left to marvel about the mystery that is Luce; but he can’t fight the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he is finally getting through to him.

 

 

They don't talk much over the next few days, but Sam still feels as if something has changed, as if the animosity between them has been lifted. He doesn't hate Luce anymore. The fuming rage at Dean's death has been replaced with an overwhelming, but quiet grief; he's given up trying to blame anyone, he simply wishes things were different and mourns his brother in peace.

As for Luce, well - he's still quiet, and Sam wonders how long he'll stay here. A suicide attempt surely warrants a transfer to a psychiatric ward, so there's probably still something else wrong with him which can only be treated here. If Sam's honest, he's glad that Luce isn't gone; they don't talk that much, but it's better than having no company at all.

At some point during one of the days, Luce asks him why they were even out, driving that late at night.

"We were road tripping", he tells him. "And we'd passed through a little town a few hours before, but their motel was full. So we had to keep driving. We were still hoping to find somewhere to sleep when we... well."

Luce nods. He understands. He doesn't mention the grief spilling out of Sam's voice or the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Simply talking about Dean is enough to bring him to the edge these days.

"How about you?", Sam asks when he's recovered a little bit. "Why were you out that late? And with no lights on at that?"

Luce casts him a slightly guilty look. Sam has tried not to sound accusing, but apparently, something of that must have come across.

Or maybe Luce just blames himself, blames himself for everything that happened.

"It's kind of a long story", he says evasively.

"I've got time", Sam says simply.

Luce sighs and leans back. He seems to consider his words. It's silent for a long time before he finally speaks.

"I had - I had a big fight with my brother that night. I guess I should start from the beginning. And I suppose the beginning is that about six months ago, our father went missing. Suddenly, completely out of the blue, he was gone. We didn't find any evidence of a kidnapping or some other sort of crime. He was just... gone.

"And that meant it was just us at home, Michael and me. He's - he's a few years older than me and very authoritative. He took charge of everything and he tried to take charge of me, no matter how many times I told him I was twenty-seven and I could take care of myself. And - and I didn't cope very well. With Dad disappearing. I started drinking, doing drugs. I went down that path before, when I was still in school, and Dad stopped it from getting too far, but he wasn't there to hold me back this time. I got... I got real bad. And Michael just got fed up. And that night, he kicked me out, shouting at me that I was a freak and had to get my life back under control before I set foot in his house again."

Sam doesn't say anything, he simply listens, but he can tell from the glances he gets from Luce that his listening is appreciated.

"So I got my car and went to the nearest pub", he goes on quietly. "I got drunk, properly smashed, I drank a lot even for my standards, and when I was so drunk that I got thrown out, I simply took my car and went for a ride."

"You were drunk", Sam dares to interject.

"I was desperate, Sam", Luce simply says. "I didn't see a way out. I got into my car with no intention of ever getting back out again."

Sam must be looking incredibly shocked, because Luce adds quickly, "I never meant to harm anyone else. I woke up here and you told me your brother was dying because of me. Only made things worse."

Sam finally manages to get himself out of his stunned stupor. It's one thing to witness a person trying to commit suicide. It's quite another to know the story, the reasoning behind the attempt.

"I'm sorry", he whispers.

"What for?", Luce answers, giving a short, rough laugh. "For just existing that night? For beating me when your brother died? For keeping me from finally dying?"

"I don't know", Sam says, and it's genuine. Maybe he should have let Luce die, maybe it would have been merciful.

But then - he doesn't deserve to die. Nobody does. And if Sam can do anything to help him, he will.

"I guess that answers my question, though", he says, quietly, almost to himself.

Luce looks at him, thoughtful.

"I guess it does", he says just as quiet.

It only occurs to Sam much, much later that Luce didn't even have to ask what question Sam meant.

 

 

Sam is awake when Luce is visited by his lawyer for the first time.

He simply walks in, tells Luce to come with him and leaves again. Sam doesn't like the look of the lawyer; the lawyer doesn't seem to like the look of Luce.

They stay gone for a while, then Luce comes back into the room, alone.

Sam waits for a few moments, and when Luce doesn't talk, he asks.

"What was that about?"

Luce glances at him; it looks as if he's about to burst into laughter, or tears.

"My sentence", he says. "Vehicular manslaughter while driving under the influence. I'm going to prison."

All things considered, Sam supposes he should have expected it. It still comes as a shock.

"For how long?", he asks, his voice slightly rough.

"Mr Crowley - my lawyer - says he can knock off a few months", Luce says. "In the end I guess it'll probably boil down to six months prison and then some time on a closed psychiatric ward." He gives a short bark of laughter. "Guess I shouldn't have tried to kill myself."

Sam doesn't answer. Thoughts are racing through his head. It's obvious - Luce was drunk when he was driving, he didn't have headlights on, his behaviour could certainly be classified as dangerously reckless. And it had caused a death.

Dean's death.

But somehow - and he really wonders why, because after all he used to study law - it hasn't occurred to him that Luce would go to prison for this.

His thoughts must be displayed very clearly on his face because Luce suddenly laughs.

"Don't look like that, Sam. It could've been a lot worse."

"But you're going to prison."

"Which is only fair. Don't tell me you don't understand. I survived, so I get to clean up my own messes." He turns away, and Sam barely catches his last words as he mumbles into his pillow. "Should've finished the job, should've driven against a tree or something."

He doesn't say anything else, he doesn't react to Sam's feeble questions, and after a while, Sam decides he must have fallen asleep, leaving Sam with this chaotic mess of feelings inside his head.

 

 

He spends the rest of the day and the better part of the night trying to figure out why the thought of Luce going to prison upsets him like that.

He should be glad, or better yet, he should be angry. Angry that Luce gets away easy just because he attempted suicide. Or at least glad that he's going to serve time for causing Dean's death.

And in a way, he supposes he is. But he just isn't comfortable with the thought of Luce - skinny, fragile-looking Luce - in prison. Sam has never seen a prison cell from the inside, and he doesn't intend to; but he knows what people say, and even if it's not true, prison is surely not the best thing to do to someone whose mind is hell bent on erasing its own existence. He just doesn't like the thought.

It's probably around midnight when he realises he's actually started to care about Luce. He's worried about him, he spends a significant amount of his time wondering about what's going on inside his head. He watches him to make sure he doesn't harm himself again. His feelings for Luce have transformed from anger and hatred to something he would almost call protectiveness.

He's fascinated by Luce and he can tell Luce is intrigued by him. He knows that if the circumstances were different, he'd be insanely attracted to Luce.

He probably is either way, but that's not a thought he welcomes. He doesn't want to go down that road. It's been months and months since he and Jess broke up, but it still feels like even thinking in the direction of a new relationship is far too soon.

He eventually falls asleep; it's no surprise that Luce is haunting his dreams.

 

 

The morning seems to come too soon. Sam is woken up by breakfast and can't contain that slightly awkward feeling that seems to linger every time he's with someone he's dreamed about, someone he only realised last night he's attracted to; he eats his breakfast in silence, casting small, uneasy glances in Luce's direction.

Luce must have noticed, because he watches Sam (which Sam notices every time he glances at him) and as soon as Sam's finished his breakfast, he gets up and strides over to Sam's bed.

It's new - so far, they've only ever communicated from their beds, Sam unable and Luce unwilling to get up. But now Luce is standing next to Sam's bed.

"May I?", he asks, gesturing vaguely to Sam's bed. Sam nods and shuffles to the side a bit, ignoring the pain in his leg as Luce sits down on his bed.

It's the first time Sam actually gets a closer look. It's the first time he sees that Luce's eyes are a piercing, steely, cold blue.

It's a beautiful colour, but it reminds Sam of arctic ice or something. He feels unable to say anything, he simply stares.

After a while, Luce chuckles.

"You're staring."

Sam looks away immediately, blushing furiously. "Sorry", he mumbles under his breath.

"No, it's fine", Luce says, his voice soft and gentle. Sam hesitates, then looks up; his eyes find Luce's again.

"I'm curious", Luce says. "It's - it may seem a bit weird. But - but, you care for me, Sam. It's a strange feeling. Being cared for." His gaze drifts away, turning thoughtful. "It's not something I'm very used to. I don't understand. Why? Why do you care for me?"

Sam tries hard not to panic. He's never told Luce he cares for him. But he supposes his actions must have spoken louder than words; saving Luce from his suicide attempt, asking questions, being obviously shocked when he found out Luce was going to prison -

"Because", he says quietly. "I just do. You're - you're not a bad person. You're just someone who's made mistakes. And we've - we've both lost someone close to us. I don't know."

Luce hesitates.

"I killed -"

"Don't", Sam interrupts him softly. "Please."

Luce just looks at him.

"It doesn't make you a bad person."

He doesn't know if he says it because he thinks it's what Luce wants to hear, or because he thinks it's what Luce needs to hear, or because he actually believes it.

"But -"

"Luce", Sam says. He leans forward a bit, gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg. "I said don't."

They're closer now, their faces inches from each other, and Luce looks at him with pain in his eyes. Sam feels like he sees his own inner struggle reflected in Luce's face, and he's barely surprised when Luce's hand snakes up to touch his face and he leans in to press a small, hesitant kiss to his lips.

It's short and sweet and very, very gentle and over before Sam even realised it's started.

"I'm sorry", Luce says, his voice a little rough.

"Don't be", Sam whispers.

Luce leans away. Sam misses the gentle touch immediately, but he knows better than to try and hold Luce back.

So he simply watches him get up slowly. He seems reluctant.

"You know", he says eventually. "I never really answered your question."

"What question?", Sam asks. He honestly can't remember what question Luce is referring to.

"About my name." He smiles as if he's made a joke that he grew tired of years ago.

"It's short for Lucifer."

Sam laughs; he can't help himself. "You're shitting me."

Luce smiles grimly. "Wish I was."

Sam's laugh dies in his throat. "Sorry. I shouldn't have laughed at you." He frowns, then decides he would like to see how Luce's full name feels on his lips.

"Lucifer."

Luce's smile softens, and just for a moment, Sam can see that smile he's been trying to get out of him; just a simple, genuine smile.

"It doesn't sound so bad when you say it", he says.

Sam smiles back and feels the burning urge to grab Luce - Lucifer - and kiss him with as much passion as he can muster. He can tell from Lucifer's face that he guesses his intentions; but rather than give in, Luce leans away a bit, the smile fading from his face.

"Sam", he says quietly. "I - I'll be gone by tomorrow and I'll never see you again."

"Wow", Sam says without thinking. "Way to ruin the mood, dude."

Luce almost smiles again. Almost.

"I mean it, Sam", he says. "I'm going to prison and we'll never meet again."

"Don't say that", Sam whispers. He suddenly feels helpless, overwhelmed by emotions. Luce is like his life belt; if he didn't have him, he would surely drown in the endless sea of sorrow that Dean's death left behind.

And if Luce leaves, Sam doesn't want to never see him again. He needs Luce. And Luce needs him. It was fate that brought them together, or maybe God, maybe someone's twisted idea of giving Sam some solace after his brother's death.

"I'm sorry, Sam", Luce whispers.

He seems to fight with himself for a moment, but eventually, he leans down to kiss Sam. Sam sighs and melts into the kiss. It feels so easy for a moment. It's just them, just him and Luce, and nobody can take it from them.

Except they will.

 

 

Two police officers as well as Luce's lawyer come in the morning to take him away. Sam can only watch.

He does manage, however, to get one of the police officers to tell him which prison Lucifer will be held in.

And just like that, Lucifer leaves, taking away every bit of comfort he's managed to give Sam; just like that, his room is filled with silence, grief, and dread.


	3. Chapter 3

Lucifer's trial is barely worth the name. It's over in less than an hour. He comes in, he confesses, and then the therapist who treated him after his suicide attempt speaks, stating that Lucifer's mind is rather unstable. The court rules that he is only partially responsible for the accident and he is sentenced to seven months in prison as well as another year in a closed psychiatric ward.

His therapy starts as soon as he gets to prison. He sees his therapist twice a week while he's an inmate. He doesn't trust her, he doesn't see how talking about his feelings will help him deal with his father's disappearance and his own guilt and his own self-hatred. The first month, he barely speaks in his therapy sessions.

Prison itself isn't bad. It could certainly be worse; it's not nearly as bad as its reputation. Lucifer keeps his head down, he doesn't provoke anyone and doesn't let himself be provoked by others. Some of the other inmates who try to get through to him in the first weeks give up after realising that Lucifer barely talks, even to them.

It's lonely and he's living with the bare minimum, but he's serving his time with the sense that it's a just punishment. He should have gotten more, he should have gotten a harder punishment. His actions killed a person. Killed the one person who was most important to his Sam.

He thinks back to the hospital a lot. Thinks back to Sam. He treasures the time he spent with Sam because Sam is probably the kindest and bravest man he ever knew.

Sam, who wears every emotion on his sleeve, who isn't afraid to scream or cry if he needs to. Sam, who hated him for killing his brother. Sam, who still cared enough to watch him and to help him when he was trying to end his own life.

Sam, who always managed to say exactly the right things, even when he was deliberately trying to hurt him.

Sam, who he was in love with before he even knew what was happening.

He's tried to write it off as gratitude, as meaningless infatuation. He was lost and Sam was good to him even though he should hate him. Sam was attractive. Sam was open.

Sam was just as lost as him.

Lucifer spends a lot of his time in prison wondering if Sam liked him back. It seemed that way, back in the hospital when Lucifer kissed him. But Lucifer can't help but doubt Sam's affection. Why would Sam love someone like him - a drunk, an addict, a guy who was thrown out of his own home and then killed his brother by driving drunk?

_We'll never meet again._

_Don't say that_ , Sam had said.

_Don't say that._

Sounded like he hoped to meet him again.

And against all reason, Lucifer hopes too.

 

 

It takes him a while to start talking while he is in therapy.

The first time his therapist really gets him to talk, it's about Sam. He tells his therapist about his wardmate who saved his life at the time. He tells her about Sam, describes him as best he can, tells her about his brother and how Sam hit him when Dean died; tells her about how much Sam seemed to care after his suicide attempt.

It's the first time in weeks that he's actually spoken more than a few words in a row and he feels it's a relief. He holds back the tears as he talks about his love and doesn't mention that he would like to see him again.

His Sam.

He knows if he had the chance, if he didn't have to be in prison and on a psych ward afterwards, he would go out and find Sam and do everything in his power to actually make Sam his. But as it is - Sam will heal, he will forget, and when Lucifer is a free man once more, Sam will not care about him anymore.

 

 

He's more than a little surprised when at some point during the second month of his stay, the guards tell him he has a visitor.

There are exactly three possibilities of who his visitor could be. Well. Four.

One - his lawyer for some reason, which Lucifer doubts.

Two - Michael, which Lucifer doubts even more. Ever since the accident, he hasn't heard a word from his brother.

Three - his father, which is the most unlikely one of all. His father is missing. There isn't a chance in hell it's him.

And four -

"Sam!"

He hasn't dared to hope. He doesn't know how Sam even knows where he is. He doesn't know why Sam is here.

"Sam", he says, his happiness at seeing his love probably clearly reflected on his face. "It's so good to see you."

"And you, Luce", Sam says. He eyes him critically. "You've lost weight."

"Prison food", Luce says. "No big deal."

"It is if you're not healthy", Sam disagrees and Lucifer thinks he's falling in love all over again. He wishes he could touch Sam, at least touch his cheek and run his hands through his hair, tell him without words how much he loves him and how much he misses him. But there's a wall of glass and steel between them; even Sam's voice sounds odd and wrong through the little speaker.

"I'm good enough", Luce simply says.

"How are you, though? For real."

"I'm okay, Sam", Lucifer says quietly. "Really. I get food and everything I need and - and I have therapy twice a week. It'll be more once I'm transferred to psych ward."

"I don't think I can visit you there", Sam says. Even through the speakers, Lucifer can hear the regret in his voice.

"No, I don't think you can. I think phone calls are allowed, though. Not sure how I could give you the number."

"We'll figure something out", Sam says, and Lucifer can feel the hope in his chest start to grow.

"How are you then, Sam?", he asks. Sam is still wearing a cast but he looks healthier and a little bit happier and not as tired as he did just after his brother died.

"I'm okay", Sam says. "I had to - had to arrange a lot of stuff - the funeral and - and -" He frowns, bites his lip. Dean's funeral. Lucifer knows Sam's brother was incredibly important to him and he won't be over his death anytime soon.

Lucifer longs to touch him, to comfort him, more than ever.

"And I went back to college."

"Oh", Lucifer says, a bit surprised at the sudden change of topic. "Oh. Well, that's brilliant! Where?"

It occurs to him, a little bit too late, that he should have asked what he was studying rather than where, but to be honest, _what_ isn't nearly as important to Lucifer as _where_.

"Not far from here", Sam says. "It's - I mean. Look, I'll write down my new address for you, okay? I mean, it'll be a while until you get out but if - if you need somewhere to stay, even if it's just until you've found something for yourself, just - just come over, okay? I've got a spare room."

There's hope in Sam's eyes, a lot more hope than Lucifer has allowed himself to believe in.

"Thank you, Sam", he says quietly.

"It means a lot."

 

 

Sam visits him a few more times. He also gets a visit from his lawyer close to the end of his time in prison, and he tells him how they're going to proceed with him. Lucifer manages to get him to tell him the phone number of the psych ward he's going to be transferred to and he prays that Sam will visit him once more before he's transferred.

And he's in luck; Sam visits him the next day and Lucifer slips him the phone number.

"We're not going to see each other for a very long time", he says quietly. "It would be - nice to hear from you some time."

"I'll call you, don't worry", Sam says with a smile that makes Lucifer wish he didn't need to go on the ward and could just walk out and live with Sam. Because he would, if he could he would drop everything and go with Sam and try his very best to make Sam his and to stay with him for as long as he lived.

 

 

The psychiatric ward he goes to isn't that different from prison. The food is a little better, the rooms a little cleaner and most of the patients aren't as aggressive. They've got all sorts here, though; skinny girls with scars on their arms who seem completely normal when they speak, middle aged men who mutter under their breaths, people who don't talk and people who don't stop talking. Lucifer does as he did in prison, he keeps a low profile and doesn't talk a lot.

Or at least, he tries. But he's forced to interact with people; he's being put in group therapy and he's eating together with other people and he's expected to do activities with them.

The group he has therapy with consists of him and four other people; another guy who's a bit younger than Lucifer called Alastair, a woman in her early twenties called Lilith and two teenage girls called Meg and Ruby.

In the first session, they simply tell each other their names and why they're here. All of them have attempted suicide. In addition to that, Lilith and Alastair have eating disorders. They don't talk much about their disorders at first; their therapist, Doctor Eath, asks them to tell them about a point in their life when they remember being happy.

Lilith is the first one to talk, telling them about the birth of her little brother when she was five. She tells them about holding the baby for the first time, and she talks about how happy her parents were, and she does it with a sad smile on her face.

After Lilith has finished her story, the others hesitatingly follow suit and talk about happy memories: Ruby talks about going to the beach, Meg talks about being with her boyfriend. Alastair keeps quiet and Lucifer eventually tells them about the first time Sam visited him in prison. He doesn't go into the how's and why's of him being in prison, he just tells them he wasn't expecting it and describes Sam as "this guy I have a crush on". He says it's a happy memory because it showed him how much Sam cares and it gave him hope for the future as well as something to look forward to.

When it's Alastair's turn to speak, he doesn't say anything, he shakes his head mutely and Doctor Eath, who seems to know Alastair, moves on to the next task.

During lunch break, Lucifer finds himself talking to Ruby. She's sixteen, she tells him, and she's been here for two weeks.

"Came here straight from the hospital", she says. "You only came here a few days ago, right?"

"Yeah", Lucifer says. "Came straight from prison." He doesn't even make an effort to suppress the bitter laughter. Ruby smiles, not at all taken aback or offended.

"It sounds like an interesting story. You should tell it to me someday."

"Maybe I will", Lucifer says. He means it. Ruby is nice and he likes her.

"So", she says when they've gotten their food and sat down. "How did you do it? I mean. If you want to talk about it."

"It's fine", Lucifer says between taking bites. "I. Um. First time, I got drunk and drove away in my car. I was meaning to have an accident and die. And I did have an accident, but one of guys in the other car died."

Ruby watches him, her brow furrowed. She doesn't interrupt, and Lucifer is grateful for that.

"Second time was in the hospital after that. I saved up pills and took them when I thought no one was looking. Turns out my wardmate was looking. He rang the alarm." He smiles sadly. "It was Sam. Who I told you about at group therapy, the one who came visit me in prison. That's how I met him, in the hospital."

"He saved your life", Ruby says quietly. "Weren't you angry?"

Lucifer nods. "I was at first. But more than that - I just didn't understand why he did it, you know? You see - the guy I killed in that accident... that was Sam's brother. He should have hated me, he shouldn't have cared about me. He was angry at me. But he still saved me."

"He sounds like a remarkable person", Ruby says. "I hope you see him again."

"Me too."

They sit and eat in silence for a while, and then Lucifer says, "How about you? How did you -? If you want to tell me?"

Ruby looks up and smiles. Her smile held a hint of bitterness. "Jumped off a bridge", she answers. "I did actually jump. And I did actually die. But someone saw me, called 911, and they managed to revive me."

"Shit happens", Lucifer says. Ruby laughs, nodding.

"Not sure our therapist would see it that way."

"Do you want to die?", Lucifer asks spontaneously.

Ruby looks at him for a moment, thoughtful.

"No", she says eventually. "I just thought -"

She falls silent, tears gathering in her eyes.

"It's okay", Lucifer says, suddenly alarmed. He's never been able to deal with people crying. It makes him itchy. "Forget I asked, okay? You don't need to talk about it."

"It's fine", she says. She presses her lips together in a valiant effort not to cry. Lucifer reaches out and awkwardly pats her back.

"It's okay, you can cry", he says hesitantly. "After all, that's what we're here for, right? To cry and to deal with the things that make us cry. Or. Or something like that."

Ruby looks at him and laughs through her tears. "You're funny", she says. "I like you."

 

 

It turns out that it's not as bad as he thought it would be.

In fact, he ends up making friends, which isn't something he thought would happen at all. He'd thought it was more like prison, where everyone hates everyone and no one likes to talk to anyone about anything. But the people on the ward are lovely, for the most part they're not criminals, and most of them care a lot about others.

And despite him being the oldest in their therapy group and Ruby being the youngest, they end up spending a lot of their time together. Sometimes Lilith or Meg join them. They're both less sociable than Ruby, though.

Alastair never joins them; Alastair never seems to speak to anyone.

"I don't know what's wrong with him", Ruby tells Lucifer one day. "He's been like that all along, I swear I've never heard him say a word. He tried to kill himself. Everyone in our group did. But no one knows how or why or what went wrong in his life. But I think he's properly fucked up. Like, a lot more than you or me or the others. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to commit three seconds after getting out of here."

It makes Lucifer wonder how anyone becomes like this. Wonder about all the things that have to go wrong to make a person like Alastair.

"He's not our problem, Luce", Ruby tells him sternly when she notices. "We're all not each other's problems. The last thing we need is to worry about the people in here. God knows you could worry yourself sick about them. But that's not what we're here for. So let it go, okay? Focus on getting better yourself."

Lucifer wonders vaguely how it is that a sixteen year old is wiser than him. But he knows she's right, so he tries not to worry too much about Alastair or the others.

In addition to group therapy, Lucifer has single therapy sessions daily. It's different than group therapy. His therapist here is kind and understanding; she has a nice smile and tells him he doesn't need to talk about anything if he doesn't feel comfortable with it. His therapist in prison was a lot pushier and he didn't like her as much. He feels it's a lot easier to talk to Eve, his new therapist.

But it doesn't matter what they do, or what she tells him. He explains it to her over and over again. The only thing he's living for at the moment is the hope of seeing Sam again; if he gets out and finds that Sam has moved on and doesn't care about him anymore, he will literally not know what to do. He will have nowhere to go. And he thinks it will kill him.

It's what he tells Eve, and Eve tells him to try and be more optimistic. She says he should try and start a completely new life once he's out, let go of the past, of his family.

Lucifer doesn't think he'll be able to.

He's been on the ward for nearly a month when Sam calls him for the first time.

"Hey, Luce", he says, his voice sounding odd and far, far away over the phone. "How're you doing?"

"Fine, I suppose."

Sam doesn't seem to know what to add to that.

So Lucifer says, "I miss you."

He doesn't even know where that came from. He barely realises he's about to say it until it's said.

Sam laughs, but it's not a mean or cruel laugh. It's a gentle laugh brimming with warmth.

"I miss you too, Luce. Make sure you get out soon, okay?"

The words fill Luce with more hope than he's managed to muster for ages, and he can't stop himself from smiling even though Sam can't see him.

"I'm working on it", he promises Sam.

 

 

Sam doesn't call often, but Lucifer loves him even more for it - at least he does call, unlike Michael, who still hasn't contacted Lucifer at all. He speaks to Eve about it and he admits that even though he wouldn't ever tell his friends, he misses Michael. He's his brother, after all. They've been through a lot together and Lucifer thought that maybe him having a car accident and almost dying would make Michael forgive him and take him back in.

Which was apparently not the case.

Lucifer tells Eve that he isn't planning to go looking for Michael as soon as he's out, but if he does run into him at some point (which isn't all that unlikely; Sam's going to college in the town right next to where Lucifer used to live) he's not going to ignore him completely. So unless Michael does anything else, he'll treat him like he would treat a vague acquaintance or something.

He also tells Eve that part of him hopes to run into Michael one day; but there's another part of him that really hopes this situation never actually arises.

He can feel himself getting better; he's more carefree, he doesn't contemplate his own misery as much, he's learning to accept the fact that his father is gone and there's nothing he can do about it. He's given medicine and even manages to drown his suspicion of any medication and actually take it after he's had a doctor explain to him in detail what he's taking and what the effects of it are.

Against Ruby's advice, he worries about the other patients on the ward, especially since he's getting better and seems to be one of the healthiest patients. He worries about Alastair and Lilith and about some of the other people he's met, he worries about Meg and Ruby even though both of them have a very good chance of recovery. He's never seen himself as a very compassionate person, but his heart clenches every time he sees the vivid scars on the girls' arms.

One day after he's been there for almost three months, Ruby finally reveals why she tried to kill herself; they've spoken about various things in group therapy and Lucifer has had his suspicions on basis of some of the things she said, but he didn't know for sure until now.

Her parents critically neglected her; most of her mental health issues were a result of a silent cry for attention. She'd run away, tried to live on the streets, and eventually not seen another option.

She's telling him outside of group therapy and Lucifer appreciates her trust. He doesn't say anything to her in that moment, but carefully stores this information in case he needs it later on.

 

 

"You know, I had a wardmate too", she tells him a few weeks later. "It's - it's not something I talk about a lot, it feels very - um - private, if you know what I mean? But you talk about your Sam all the time. I mean, it sounds like you've got yourself a future husband in that hospital."

"Don't say that", Lucifer says, blushing slightly. "He might not feel that way, I don't - I don't want to get my hopes up."

Ruby stares at him with a very peculiar look in her eyes.

"What?", he challenges.

"Nothing", she says quickly. "It's just... he visited you in prison, right? And he calls you every other week. It's not something people usually do for people they've only just met. You've got every reason to get your hopes up."

Lucifer avoids her eyes. If Ruby really thinks that -

"Anyway", he says, thinking it safest to change the subject. "You said something about a wardmate?"

"Oh yes", Ruby says, her eyes lighting up. "She was - well, it's almost like you and Sam, we didn't like each other very much at first. She didn't understand how anyone would want to take their own life. And I was pretty blunt - she was in because she'd gotten into a fight with a dog, must have been a huge, vicious thing, she never talked about it but she was pretty messed up. So I told her that she probably had a secret death wish or something, or that she was at the very least dangerously reckless, doing what she did. She wasn't very pleased. But still, we became friends. I really liked her. And then they shipped me off to psych ward and I'll never see her again."

Lucifer chooses not to go into Ruby's _I'll never see her again_ \- he knows she won't believe him if he tells her nothing is set in stone. Instead, he focuses on another part of the story.

"You _really liked her_ , huh?", he says with a smirk.                 

"Shut up", Ruby says, rolling her eyes. But she's smiling. "Yeah. You're right, of course. I liked her the same way you liked your Sam. Exactly the same way."

Lucifer smiles back and envelopes Ruby in a spontaneous hug.

He's not really one for extensive physical contact, so he lets go of her fairly quickly. He doesn't feel like it was a bad choice though; she's smiling even more than before.

"What's her name, then?", he asks. "Your girl's."

"Bela", Ruby answers. "Bela Talbot."

 

 

"Bela Talbot? Sure, I know her. She lived in the same town as me when I grew up. She was still quite young when I left for college. Twelve or thirteen, I think. Why are you asking?"

Lucifer can barely suppress a grin at Sam's words.

"It'll be a wonderful surprise for one of my friends here", he simply tells him.

 

 

"Shouldn't you have been discharged weeks ago?", he asks Ruby a few weeks later after both Meg and Lilith have left the hospital. He's noticed that most people who have tried to kill themselves don't actually stay for long; most only stay for a few days or weeks at most. Yet Ruby, Alastair and Lucifer have been here for months.

He knows the reason why he's not discharged. For one, it's got to do with his sentence; apparently, a court ruling that you're insane qualifies you for at least a few months on the ward. Also, Eve has told him that as long as he's still thinking in terms of _If Sam doesn't want me, I won't want to live_ he's not going to leave.

He can pretty much imagine why Alastair isn't discharged; he still hasn't said a word in group therapy and he's dangerously thin - in the months Lucifer has known him, he hasn't gained any weight at all. His eyes always look cold and empty and detached. He's not going anywhere.

Ruby, on the other hand, is a different story. Lucifer knows her pretty well by now, and she's pretty much recovered.

"Yeah, I should have", she says lightly in answer to his question. "The initial plan was to keep me here two weeks. Two weeks became two months. Two months became six months. It's ironic, you know, because at first I was desperate to leave. But I like it here."

Lucifer looks at her, slightly confused. Sure, it's definitely not bad. He's heard other stories of people who've been to other psych hospitals and tell horror stories of fed up doctors and overworked nurses, of not being cared for and being disregarded. At least they're being treated decently here. But it's not the pinnacle of existence.

Ruby can tell he's sceptical and rolls her eyes.

"It's better than home", she says. "It's - you see, I have friends here, and people who care for me and give me attention, even though it's because they're paid to do so. It's more than my parents have ever given me. I feel like I'm important, like I matter to someone."

"You do", Lucifer says at once. He wonders where it's coming from. He wouldn't have been so keen on looking after suicidal teenage girls, or even admitting that he cared, before his accident. He wouldn't have cared at all. But the fact is, he cares for Ruby. She's like a daughter to him, or maybe a little sister, and he admires her a great deal. He doesn't want her to get hurt.

"Thanks", Ruby says. "So you see, I don't want to leave. So my therapist, Tammi? She's lovely and a little gullible. I've been telling her almost every day that I still feel suicidal and that I feel like the situation at home would escalate quickly, to the point of me trying to kill myself again, and that I don't think outpatient therapy would help a lot. So I'm staying."

Lucifer can't help but grin.

"You manipulative little shit."

Ruby grins back. "Don't you dare tell anyone."

"Not going to."

 

 

Officially, he's still got about four months to stay on the ward, but as his recovery progresses, he's getting restless. He tells this to Eve as well as Doctor Eath and a few days later, Doctor Eath explains to him that while the time the court has sentenced him with is usually taken as a recommendation, the doctors in the facility have the final word and if they think a patient is recovered, they may release him prematurely.

Doctor Eath is smiling as he tells Lucifer this; he knows how restless and impatient Lucifer has become over the past couple of weeks.

"If we, and if you, feel like you're ready to leave and go out into the world again, there's no reason why you shouldn't be out there by the end of the week."

Eve says something similar, and when Lucifer tries to convince her that he's got a more positive outlook on life now, she just laughs at him and tells him she knows he's lying.

"I'm not too worried about you, though", she says. "Sam sounds like a wonderful person and he's been calling all the time. And even if it doesn't work out, you've got our number - and you'll still have an appointment here once a week. If it gets worse again, don't hesitate to get in touch, okay?"

He tells Sam the exciting news when he calls next, which is just a day before Lucifer gets out. He puts off telling Ruby for as long as he can, but she's far too clever to miss his obvious excitement.

"You're leaving, aren't you?", she asks the evening before he's due to get discharged.

He nods, momentarily forgetting his euphoria. He doesn't like the idea of leaving Ruby in here practically on her own. He knows she'll manage, but he still doesn't like it.

"Well, good luck, then", she says. "I don't suppose we'll ever see each other again."

"Shut up", he tells her and pulls her into a tight hug. When he releases her, he digs out a small piece of paper out of his trouser pockets. It's the very same piece of paper Sam gave him months ago when he was still in prison.

He copies the address onto another sheet of paper and hands it to Ruby.

"This is where Sam lives. I can't be sure, but I'll probably be there. I'll call you and let you know, okay? And when you get out and you get fed up with your parents, you can come visit us, okay? Anytime. I'm sure Sam will agree."

She nods and silently puts the address into her own pocket. Lucifer isn't sure, but he thinks she might actually be upset.

Upset about him leaving.

Now there's another feeling he's never had before.

"Hey", he says. "We'll see each other again, okay? Promise."

Ruby looks at him and nods.

"But I want you to promise me something else, okay, Ruby?"

"And what's that?"

Her voice is only shaking a little bit.

"Get better. Get out of here. This isn't how someone like you should be living. You should get out and finish school and find a job and hell, find Bela again and just - just get better, okay? Promise me that."

Ruby smiles. There's something bitter in her smile, but she nods.

"I promise. I'll get out. And I'll come see you."

"Good", Lucifer says and hugs her again.

 

 

He doesn't have a lot of stuff to pack, so he just waits impatiently for the moment when he's finally let out after breakfast.

Ruby sat somewhere else at breakfast, but she follows him into the lobby now. They don't say anything; Lucifer feels like he can't really add anything to what he said the night before.

So he simply hugs her again and holds her close, probably hugging her for longer than he's ever hugged anyone.

Someone clears their throat and Lucifer looks up.

It's Sam.

He takes a step back and frowns. He can't really process - Sam is here, in the hospital, right in front of him, right there - he could touch him and -

He's a bit too perplexed to actually say anything.

"Er", Sam says. He looks a bit nervous. "Hi."

"Hi", Lucifer says, still stunned.

"Hi", Ruby says, offering Sam her hand. "I'm Ruby. You're Sam, right?"

"Er. Yes." It's Sam's turn to be perplexed now, but he shakes Ruby's hand nonetheless. "Nice to meet you, Ruby. Um - Luce?"

"How did you - why -" He still doesn't seem to have regained the ability to speak in coherent sentences.

Sam laughs. "I come to fetch you and all you do is stammer at me! I told them I was here to pick up my boyfriend. Now please don't tell me I was wrong."

_My boyfriend._

Boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Boyfriend.

Sam just called him his boyfriend.

"Sam", Lucifer whispers. He steps towards Sam and engulfs him in a bone-crushing hug, enjoying the feeling of Sam's torso against his. He nuzzles his face into Sam's shoulder and breathes in his scent.

His Sam.

He lets go of him, but not completely; his hands remain on Sam's neck, thumbs stroking his cheeks lovingly.

"It's so good to see you", he says, his voice breaking slightly, and he leans in to kiss Sam. Sam's lips are soft under his mouth and he can feel Sam lean in to him. He's wondering vaguely how many times he's dreamed or daydreamed of this moment in the past months - how long he's wanted to kiss Sam like this, sweet and gentle with just the tiniest hint of desperation -

It's Ruby's turn to clear her throat, and Sam and Lucifer break apart, still holding on to each other tightly.

"See, you nutcase, I told you", she tells Lucifer with a smile. "I'll see you around, Luce."

She hesitates for a moment and then simply waves. She then casts a glance at the clock, pulls a face and takes off running; she's probably late to a therapy session or something.

Sam smiles and takes his hand. "So that was Ruby", he says.

"Yes", Lucifer says. "That was Ruby."

"You like her", Sam says. It's not a question.

"She's like a sister", Lucifer answers. "Or maybe a daughter."

He thinks maybe he should put off telling Sam that he invited her to his house for a bit. After all, they've only just been reunited. If that's even the right word.

"Let's go home", Sam says quietly, squeezing his hand.

Lucifer would like nothing more than that.

**Author's Note:**

> I was told that:  
> 1\. I had to mention a certain person whose heart I crushed multiple times duing the making of this fic (Maria)  
> 2\. The quote I used for the title makes that same person feel Teen Wolf feels (though how that's relevant to the story kind of escapes me)
> 
> This is going to be a series; you'll get the backstories of Alastair, Meg, Ruby and Lilith as well as a series of drabbles/oneshots from Lucifer and Sam's life starting after this fic. (Yes that one will be at least M rated.) I'll start uploading those as soon as possible.


End file.
